


Wars

by themuse123



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Beth Greene, Bisexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Found family and bonding, LGBT characters, Multi, PTSD, Pining, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuse123/pseuds/themuse123
Summary: Alexandria's time is dwindling. Running low on food and ammo, they face destruction at the hands of the Wolves. It seems their only option is to send scouts out for medical supplies and a place to manufacture bullets, to fight until their last breath. Until they discover a community that may be able to turn the tides of the war.
Relationships: Abraham Ford/Sasha Williams, Beth Greene/Original Female Character, Eugene Porter/Original Female Character, Rick Grimes/Michonne
Kudos: 4





	Wars

**A/N: So. Hello! I'm on my fanfic b.s. again! :D A few things to note beforehand: this is technically an AU of my other TWD series (which I have not posted here yet(?), but which is on Fanfiction.net), but please don't feel obligated to read that one first. I mean, I obviously wouldn't be opposed to that but it's coolioz if you're only interested in this one. There's nothing you need to know that won't be explained here. On the flip side, if you're a former reader but you don't feel like this is your jam or whatever, that's also completely coolioz. **

**Another thing: this is canon divergent. A lot of the characters that die in canon will live in this story, although that doesn't mean everyone is completely safe. The timeline is also different, and will be expanded upon as the story goes.**

**Last thing: this chapter's title song is "Hello" by Martin Solveig and Dragonette. It's a real bop, check it out sometime. And, yeah. I guess let's jump into it.**

1\. Hello

To say she was exhausted was an understatement. She was running on about two hours of sleep and in severe need of more than the single bite of oatmeal she'd had at the start of the night. She was eternally grateful for the coffee Maggie brought in around midnight, although like the oatmeal, there hadn't been time enough for more than a few mouthfuls.

Now the dust was finally settling, Beth wrapped both shaking hands around the cup and took a sip. It was cold and bitter, but after four years of scrimping and sacrificing and going without, she was practically unaffected by it.

Still, she wouldn't refuse a bit of sugar.

"Hey." Denise elbowed her, hunched over her own coffee cup. Her hands were scrubbed clean, but Beth spotted a freckle of blood just above her elbow. "You still holding up?" That authoritative tone lingered, in expectation of the next disaster.

"By a thread," Beth replied.

Nothing but truth, but she felt a pinch of guilt saying it. Everyone in the infirmary looked dragged out of hell.

The survivors, at least.

She bit her cheek. Ten injured and five dead in this attack. The Wolves were relentless. It was only going to get worse with each hungry night, and now, with their medical supplies run so low…

"We need to make a run," she said. "That hospital we've been eyein'."

Denise frowned. "I thought you said it was overrun."

"It is. But I don't think we can risk waitin' for a safer option."

Not with Abraham condemned to a hospital bed, eight abdominal stitches and a concussion. Not with Aaron's broken arm, Carol's anemia. Not with Sasha six months pregnant, still looking like she intended to fight—and the way things were going, it might come to that.

"Rick and Michonne won't like it," Denise said.

"Rick and Michonne don't have to. They just have to let me go."

"I didn't say they'd let you go, either. And I'm not sure _I_ want you to leave. I need your help here."

Anxiety prickled her chest but she stifled it. "You'll be okay. Rosita's here. And Eugene's been learnin' a lot, too, right? He can help."

"Actually, Miss Greene, I am afraid I will not be present to lend my services. Least not if I can get Rick on my side concerning some issues I plan on resolving."

Beth turned to face Eugene, still slumped in the chair she'd left him in after patching the wound on his temple. Dried blood streaked his face, and his stitched-up hands, but his eyes were clear and focused. She had a feeling she knew what the issue was but she asked anyway.

"What do you plan on resolvin'?"

"Our present lack of ammunition. As it stands, we are staring down the barrel of our imminent forfeiture of Alexandria, if not our lives first."

Their lives would come first, Beth knew. No one here was willing to let this place go, even though the price kept skyrocketing.

"Do you know what we're down to?" Denise asked, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. Beth wasn't sure why she bothered. After tonight, she didn't believe a single soul in the community was oblivious to the situation.

"Not the particulars, but going by present standards, if what I heard earlier from Sasha is correct, we have little less than two days' worth."

Fear twinged in her belly. Two days. Probably less. Of course, there was no clue as to when the Wolves might attack next. They'd been raiding the Safe Zone without apparent rhyme or reason for two weeks now. If they were to attack tomorrow…

"You really think you can make bullets?" she asked.

"Absolutely, but that isn't the issue. I've been squirrelin' away what I can for a while now, but I need the proper space for metal work. So I will be volunteering myself to look for it. Should be easy enough. I hear there's loads of rental space available these days." The humor in his tone couldn't quite break through the dread on his face.

Denise shook her head. "I don't know if we can spare that many people."

"Oh, I…I am proposing that I embark on this mission solo," Eugene said. His voice quavered. "I know what I am looking for. I know how to help. I can do this."

Beth wanted to believe him. Lately he'd been doing everything he could to prove himself, but he still had a long way to go to make up for the years spent hiding behind everyone else.

She didn't back him up, didn't say "I know you can".

She said, "Let's talk to Rick. See what he thinks."

~m~

What Rick thought was that it was out of the question, at least until Michonne brought back the official inventory on their ammunition. It was lower than Eugene's estimate. Beth was reluctant to propose her own objective, seeing as Rick looked about at his wit's end and fully prepared to murder someone, but none of them could deny they needed medicine as much as they needed ammo.

It was a long night of debate between her, Eugene and the council. Carol and Sasha agreed that ammunition was a priority, that they couldn't hope to heal their wounded if they were all dead. Tyreese and Morgan sided with Beth over Eugene, asserting that they could hold the Wolves off with what weapons they had. Daryl, of course, loyally defended both sides, and volunteered to travel with whoever needed him most.

But there was not a decision to be made that wouldn't be a terrible risk. In the end, it was decided that Glenn and Beth would make the run to the hospital, while Rick and Daryl would accompany Eugene, consolidating a food run with his search for work space.

When the verdict was drawn, Beth and Eugene shared a glance across the table, neither one completely happy with the outcome but unwilling to rock the boat. Beth assured herself it was better they'd agreed at all. She could abandon the alternate plan lurking in the back of her mind, which at its core was essentially just sneaking out in the dead of night and crossing her fingers for luck.

Daryl and Eugene waited for her on the roof that night. They were once again bickering, though half-heartedly. Beth forced a cheery smile and sat down, offering them a sip from her thermos.

Daryl wrinkled his nose at the contents. "Fuck is this?"

"_Tea, _Daryl," she answered. "It's this fancy new drink made from leaves. It's all the rage with the cool kids these days."

He snorted but drank a bit before handing it to Eugene.

"I would think you would be more partial to leaves. Didn't you used to eat them during your years wandering the woods?" Eugene inquired with a casual sip.

"I didn't _eat_ leaves, Porter. I wiped my ass with 'em."

His timing was perfect. Eugene's subsequent laugh had him choking mid-sip.

"_Fuck_, Daryl," he spluttered. "I'd appreciate you not trying to drown me. I am not sure if you are aware of this, but hot tea burns just a fraction on its way out of your nose."

"I ain't makin' you spew it out your fuckin' nose."

Beth giggled and high-fived Daryl. Though the two of them were Eugene's closest friends, it was difficult getting him to laugh. Each one was considered a victory.

They spent the next few minutes like this, passing the thermos around and giving each other shit and chattering like their whole community wasn't on the verge of ruin.

But eventually it had to come up.

Beth sighed. "I think Maggie's gonna make a fuss tomorrow."

There was silence for a moment. Above their heads, the moon was near full and bright as anything, but its light didn't comfort her like it usually did.

"Yeah," Daryl finally said. "Probably."

Ordinarily Maggie might've pushed to make the hospital run, but with her second pregnancy rounding out its third month she opted to play it safe.

"You don't think we're leavin' this place with too few people?" she asked quietly, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I don't think we're afforded the luxury of worrying about that anymore," Eugene replied. "Taking no affirmative action in our current condition will hemorrhage this community, that's as swift and certain as a bullet."

Beth nodded. He'd said as much at the meeting, and it wasn't that she didn't believe him, but she wondered if there were another path they were missing. Not like they had the time to find it, if there were.

"It is highly unlikely that we would be away from the Safe Zone as long as you and Glenn," Eugene continued. Not accounting for any roadblocks, the hospital was two days away. Best case scenario, they'd be gone four.

A lot could happen in four days.

_We each have jobs, _she reminded herself. _This is mine. _Glenn was a fantastic runner, but Beth knew exactly what they were looking for. In any case, he couldn't make the trip alone.

"Reckon Rick won't let us stay gone regardless of whether we find a workshop or not," Daryl added. "We'll come back, check on home, try again."

They stopped talking then. The thermos was empty and their moment of stolen comfort drained out. Try again. Try again. Seemed like that was all they ever managed these days. It was getting a little old.

Beth went inside first, bidding them goodnight. But she expected no sleep, and for once got exactly what she expected.

~m~

The sky couldn't seem to decide what kind of day it was going to be. Eugene tried not to take that as an omen. Gray clouds passed low overhead before dissipating to reveal blue, and then back again. Sultry air clung to him. He wished they could've taken a car, but they'd given one to Beth and Glenn and left the rest back home. Just in case.

They made good time to the closest town, or maybe it only felt that way because they'd started out before the sun was fully up. Rick and Daryl didn't offer much in the way of conversation and neither did Eugene. Tension and fatigue had them running on empty.

However, the town was small and rundown, and yielded nothing close to what Eugene would need. There wasn't even any food they could take back. He tried not to let this discourage him. He was tired and hungry and sore from the last altercation with the Wolves, and he was frustrated more than anything.

He could've made this run by himself. Rick and Daryl could've stayed behind to protect the group. He could've handled himself. He wasn't the most notable fighter in the group, but he was trying.

He wasn't the same as before. He refused to believe that he hadn't changed.

Daryl elbowed him, making him jump. "Hey. You good?"

Eugene nodded. "Yes. Positively peachy."

"Peachy. Right. Y'look like you just ate some bad peaches, more like."

Good lord, he could go for some peaches right now. Any food at all, really…

And maybe a change of subject.

"You know, I used to make the best peach cobbler…" he murmured sadly.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, don't you even fuckin' start," Daryl growled. "I'm hungry enough without that shit."

"And blueberry pancakes…"

"This is literally your last warnin'."

"And lemon wedges—_ow_. Don't pinch me."

"Next time'll be a punch."

"So can I mark you down as feeling punchy?"

Rick sighed, the sound of the long-suffering. "You two idiots plan on carrying on like this all day?"

"If he don't shut his jackass mouth," Daryl replied.

"You see the charming way he talks to me," Eugene said.

"Here." Rick stopped, pulling a candy bar from his backpack. He smiled slightly. "Don't tell Michonne I have this."

"You're a bold man, Rick," Eugene said as they divided it up.

"Yeah, I'm gambling on the idea she'd be sad if she kicked me out."

It wasn't much. The candy seemed to disappear into a void, providing no satisfaction. But it did lend them a short burst of energy, which they used to cut through the woods to a highway along which they'd never ventured much further than this.

They heard the snarling first, far enough in the distance they could be sure it wasn't intended for them.

And then the music.

~m~

Mason was still trying to convince herself to get out of bed when Renee stormed into the room, muttering what sounded primarily like four letter words to herself.

Mason sat up, raising an eyebrow. "Well, howdy there, sunshine. Pleasant morning?"

"That fucker Randy could drop dead and I wouldn't be sad. Like, at all. Not even one iota of sad."

"I don't think anyone would disagree with you there, Ren."

Randy was the Kingdom fuckhead. If it weren't for his skills as an engineer, Mason knew Ezekiel would've kicked him out long ago. More than once he refused to let Renee treat his ailments unless Dr. Ellis was present, like she couldn't be trusted to do her job on her own.

Mason wouldn't be sad if he dropped dead, either.

"Sorry, I don't mean to get so worked up," Renee said. "He just comes into the infirmary with that smug fucking attitude, and just… Yeah, sorry."

"Ren, you have every reason to be pissed, you don't have to apologize." Mason smiled slightly. "You wanna vent some more?"

"Nah, not right now, I just wanna decompress for a bit."

"Want me to beat him up for you?"

Renee smirked. "Maybe later." She laid down with her head on Mason's stomach.

"Hm… Wanna sit on my face?"

Renee laughed. "You know, for someone who swore off relationships, you're a terrible flirt."

"I can't decide if you mean I flirt a lot, or that I'm bad at flirting."

"Well, I don't know. You swing wildly both ways. And _no, _that was not a pun on your sexuality."

"But it works, so I'm counting it."

"Enough. With. The. Puns," Renee said, squeezing Mason's knee to punctuate each word.

"Ack—yeah, okay! I mean, I can't make any promises, but okay!"

~m~

She hummed on her way down the road, enjoying the brief bursts of sunlight between persistent clouds. She'd left Renee asleep in her bed and some coffee in the percolator for when she got up. The supplies were heavy on her back, but she enjoyed the weight. Everything physical was easy these days. Distracting.

She was methodical picking out her clearing, but once she did she wasted no time setting things up. The trench she dug first, a large ring ankle-deep and narrow. Then within that, two rings of wire strung from tree to tree. At the center of these concentric circles, she wired up her speakers to the solar battery, and then to her iPod.

Then she turned the music up as high as it would go.

It didn't take long for the walkers to find her. Just a few at first, scattered on all sides, but slowly their numbers thickened. Singing along with the music, Mason pulled the fire poker from its strap on her back and readied herself.

The first wave hit the trench and a good portion of them snapped their ankles. Their bodies collapsed like felled trees, hands outstretched and clawing at the dirt. Those that managed the trench, or used the fallen bodies as bridges, caught on the first wire. Then, with some struggling, the second. Anticipation kicked her pulse up.

When the first walkers trickled into the center with her, she sang them closer, dispatched them casually. Their numbers increased. Snarls drowned the music but she knew it by heart and felt it under her skin. The sun broke through the clouds to wink off her fire iron. For a moment, the world narrowed to music, and the dead, and the sweat and heat of the fight.

An arrow cut through the world.

She jumped back at the flash of yellow, and the walker in front of her collapsed. The arrow's artificial feathers gleamed neon in the sun.

"What the fuh…" was all she managed to say before three men rushed into view, throwing themselves at the walkers. One of them stopped to yank the arrow from the walker's eye, all while glaring at her.

"Wait!" she shouted above the din. "It's all good, I have this handled."

"Do ya?" the arrow man replied before raising his crossbow and taking down another walker. He stalked away without letting her respond. Mason grimaced.

So she paused her music and fell in pace with them, her world opening up and letting in a spill of anxiety. She didn't need these strangers dying for her.

With the stakes heightened, she snatched the shield off her back. It really was no more than a hubcap she'd customized with a leather strap and a makeshift grip, but it held up when the chips were down. She spun through the chaos, senses strained to play guardian to the men who thought they were rescuing her.

They handled themselves well, obviously no strangers to combat, though she wondered who could be these days. Though she remained exasperated, the herd did thin considerably with their help. Just when she thought this maybe hadn't been a complete cluster, her eyes fell on one of the men struggling to hold off a fierce pocket of walkers alone.

She leapt forward without thinking, diving straight in as they closed ranks around him. Her muscles moved reflexively, driving her shield up into a walker's jaw, running her iron through another's temple. The man moved alongside her, machete catching the light with each swing. He wasn't bad, she realized, just flustered.

When the last walker fell, they faced each other. He was tall, with bandages on his temple and…fuck, was that a mullet? She opened her mouth—to comment on it, she wasn't sure—but a snarling at their feet interrupted her. A walker lay there, its nearly-severed head hanging onto its neck with barely a prayer and a bit of skin, which the man stood on.

Mason looked back up to find the man staring at her, wide-eyed like she was part unicorn or something. She giggled.

"Move, dumbass."

"O-oh, um…"

He backed up, allowing her to deliver a truly stunning kick to the walker's head. It arced between two trees and bounced away.

"Field goal, motherfucker," Mason muttered.

"Thank you, ma'am," the man said. "That was an exceptional display of athleticism, if you don't mind my saying so. Of course, if you do mind, then feel free to consider the comment redacted."

Mason blinked, struck by the way he talked. Then she grinned.

"No redaction necessary. You don't think I do this shit for the fun of it, do you? I do it for the recognition."

The man smiled. She liked what it did to his eyes.

Before she could say anything else, perhaps ask his name or gently question his hairstyle, another voice cut her off.

"You! Hands up, now."

_Shit._

Reluctantly she obeyed, cataloguing the movements of the two men as they approached. The archer had his crossbow raised, and she didn't doubt he'd pull the trigger if she gave him a reason. The other held her locked in the sight of his revolver, looking less eager to kill her but somehow more intimidating. They were all battle-worn, she realized. Not from the walkers, but something else, something recent.

"Eugene," the archer barked, and Mullet Man jumped.

"Uh. Oh. Right."

Eugene stepped closer, hands fidgeting nervously. "Apologies, ma'am, but…"

"My weapons?" she said wryly.

"Yes. Quality assurance, nothing more."

"Yeah, I know the drill."

She handed him her iron and shield, while Revolver Man patted her down. She tried not to grimace, but it wasn't like she didn't understand. She wasn't letting her guard down, either.

Revolver Man took her gun and the knife strapped to her thigh. She bit back the urge to demand them back.

When the inventory was through, he circled around to face her. "What's your name?" His voice was low with suspicion.

She met his gaze fully. "Mason. You?"

"Rick." Introductions did not seem to make him more inclined to friendliness. "What are you doing out here?"

"Pest control," she answered.

"Alone?"

"I needed a little me time."

"What was the purpose of going to this extent?" Eugene asked, sounding more fascinated than anything.

Her tone softened just a bit answering him. "I don't…kill all of them. I need a few. It's easier getting them all in one spot. And…it's an old habit." The rest of the explanation shriveled in the back of her throat. They didn't need to know that particular bit.

"Why the fuck you need 'em?" Daryl growled.

"Some of them are gifts," she replied. "For people who deserve that kind of thing."

Rick exchanged a look with Daryl. Apparently this last resonated with them, though she couldn't tell for better or worse. Her eyes flicked to Eugene, to her weapons in his hands. She thought it probably wouldn't be hard to get them back if she had to, but she didn't particularly want to hurt him.

He watched her, too, his expression unreadable.

Then Rick spoke again.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

She was taken aback. Not just by the question itself, but…

_Walkers. They call them walkers, too. Just like…_

But she shut the rest of that thought down quick.

"Um, a lot," she said. "I lost track a long time ago."

Rick nodded, and then he hit her with another one.

"How many people have you killed?"

Everything inside her went still. She was no longer bemused. A wintry hollow yawned in her chest, something that had been there for a long time but that sometimes slept. It sometimes slept.

But apparently not today.

"A lot," she answered. That chill was there in her voice, too.

Rick stared her down. "Why?"

Lots of reasons. A myriad of images and scenarios that she fought every day to keep contained. Lots of reasons, but really only one reason.

Quietly, she said, "They were bad people."

Silence greeted her words. Maybe she'd said the wrong thing after all. Once again she looked at Eugene, and there was something new on his face but she still couldn't read it. No, she didn't want to hurt him. But she needed her weapons back.

Just as this thought crossed her mind, Rick held out her knives. Slowly, she took them.

"We have a community," he said. "We take people in. You can come back with us if you want."

More than anything else he'd said, this knocked her off balance.

"Oh. Well, I appreciate that, but…I have a community of my own to get back to."

All three of them straightened with surprise. She appraised each of them, the wounds and weariness.

She caught Eugene's eye and smiled just a little.

"If you want, you can come back with _me_," she said. "My community is open to trade and in a position to do so. You can come back, see who we are, and see…" She almost said, _How we can help_, but she didn't want to sound pitying. Besides, that wasn't her call. "We can see what we might have to offer each other."

"So that's it?" Daryl said. "You just lead us back to your people, no questions asked?"

"Anything I might've asked, you already answered by stopping to help me out," she replied. "And by offering to take me in."

Another glance between Rick and Daryl, the latter stubbornly unconvinced. It was Eugene that spoke up, his voice carefully neutral. As he did so, he handed back her iron and shield, and Mason felt better with their comforting weight returned.

"What is it your community has to trade? Food? Weapons?"

"Over half our food, we grow ourselves. Fruits, grain… Livestock, too."

"And weapons?" Daryl asked.

She blinked. "Do you need weapons?"

No one answered. It was answer enough.

"We have enough to defend ourselves," she said. "We try our best not to need them for anything but walkers."

Another long silence. Another glance like a conversation, this time between all three of them.

Finally, Rick looked up.

"How far is it?"

"Not far." Mason smiled. "Let me show you."

**A/N: There's a number of reasons I wanted to try writing this. The main reason is because there are things I desperately wanted to change. In my other series, I followed canon for about half the story before changing it, because despite its problems, part of me still really loved the show (up until season 7, anyway). But another part of me always wondered "what would things be like if Beth lived to see Alexandria?" "What if the Wolves were a bigger threat?" "What if they all had more time with each other between disasters?" And I just...couldn't let the idea die.**

**So anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoyed, and that you'll join me for the next chapter. Until then, friends xoxo**


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